


To Want Wrong Things

by Angelike



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Happy Ending, Homophobia, M/M, One Shot, Permission to Podfic Granted, Short Story, The Silver Chair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-27
Updated: 2008-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-02 12:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelike/pseuds/Angelike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caspian has admitted to Aslan his desire to see the other world, but Aslan knows he wants more than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Want Wrong Things

**Author's Note:**

> An alternate ending for _The Silver Chair_.
> 
> My first every Narnia story. Written because the chemistry between the actors in the new Disney film was just that great.
> 
> Cover designed by me.

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/eosrose/pic/000ag462)

> “Sir,” said Caspian, “I’ve always wanted to have just one glimpse of their world. Is that wrong?”
> 
> “You cannot want wrong things any more, now that you have died, my son,” said Aslan.
> 
> — _The Silver Chair_, Chapter 16: “The Healing of Harms”

Aslan’s fathomless eyes were on him now, studying him with such intensity that Caspian flushed and had to look away. More than half a century had passed since he had first knelt before Aslan on the pebbled shore at the Fords of Beruna and rose a king, but he still felt like an ignorant child under the weight of that knowing gaze. Shifting uneasily, Caspian regretted having said anything at all.

Yes, he did wish to look into the other world—but that was not all he wanted. Surely Aslan could see that. What had possessed him to even hint at his most secret desire? Death had made him rash. Was there something inherently flawed within himself that prevented even death from purifying him of his perversity? The noble Lion’s assurance that he could no longer want wrong things offered little comfort, for there could be no doubt that this particular desire, so deeply hidden and so darkly cherished, was unnatural.

The old tales claimed that the Lion had the ability to look into a man’s heart. Did Aslan see the wickedness in Caspian? Did he know to look for it? When—not if—Aslan discovered his perversion, would it make a difference that he would never risk acting on this desire? He was harming no one by keeping it close to his heart—that is, no one excepting himself. But it was a good hurt and one he suffered gladly.

Pursing his lips, Caspian met the Lion’s searching gaze with all the stubbornness and determination he could muster and cleaved to a silently-whispered hope: _Just one glimpse._ He could be content with that. It was more than he’d ever dared to hope for before.

Aslan seemed content to stare at him for an eternity. Eustace and his friend, Jill, fidgeted in quiet confusion by Caspian’s side, but somehow sensed that this was not a time for questions.

Finally, when Caspian could bear the scrutiny no longer, he said, “Please, sir, have I done something to offend you?”

“No,” said Aslan, voice a low rumble that shook Caspian to his core. “I only wonder why you fear to ask for what you wish.”

“I—I don’t...” Caspian stammered, at once breathless with horror.

“You ought to know better than anyone how truths shrouded in shadow tend to wear on the soul. Speak freely, young king, and tell me what it is you really want.”

 “But... You already know, don’t you? About me and...”

“Yes,” said Aslan.

Somehow Caspian had expected a reaction with more— Uh, well, disgust? Anger? Certainly he never anticipated someone who knew his secret to look at him with such... Such love.

“And you don’t think it’s _wrong_? This love of mine?”

“No. And I regret that I was forced to part the two you,” the Lion said, suddenly looking older than before—and sadder. “Your love was pure, your souls in accord—but surely you can see why I could not permit you such a love in this life.”

“I don’t understand. I’ve always been told that for a man to lie with another man is to commit a most heinous crime against natural law. Yet you regret that we could not remain together?”

“Wait!” Eustace said. “You’re in love with a ma—umph!” Jill offered a sheepish smile, one hand clamped unrepentantly over Eustace’s mouth.

“Peace, Eustace,” said Aslan. “All in good time.” His expression was as gentle as ever a lion’s could be when he continued. “Love, when it is true, is never wrong. Someday the children of Adam and Eve will remember that. Your separation from the one you love was never about gender. It was about doing what was best for Narnia.”

“My claim to the throne would have been precarious at best, if they had stayed. If _he_ had stayed..” Caspian mused aloud. “The Telemarines would never have respected me had my affections for him been discovered and the Narnians would have looked to their High King for guidance rather than to me. Unification would have been impossible.” Duty to the kingdom always came before duty to his heart.

He could not say that his duty had been entirely miserable.

Saying goodbye had been the most difficult thing he’d ever done. And moving on? He never really had. When Peter had gone, his heart had been spirited away with him, leaving him unmade by the very people he had called forth to aid him in the restoration of Narnia. But he _had_ loved Lilliandil as much as he was able and he would not have traded his beloved son for anything. He’d left Narnia in a far more prosperous and harmonious state than it had been in when he’d taken it. Seeing his friends safe and happy was worth the price of a broken heart; he was certain Peter would agree with him on that count.

“You wanted to know my true wish? The thing I’ve always wanted, despite its impossibility?” He took a deep, calming breath. “More than anything in the world I wish to venture into their world—to see the one I loved and lost just once more and to let him know that I have _never_ forgotten him. That I would wait for him forever and consider it time well-spent even if we could never be together again. Most of all, though, I just want to be with him. Even if it’s only for a minute.” Caspian’s lips curled into ghost of a smile.

Jill, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, piped up, “May I ask who it is that you love?”

It was Eustace who replied, eyes wide with realization. “Peter! It is Peter, isn’t it? Oh, dear, I think I need to sit down...”

Eustace wasn’t the only one. With everything out in the open, Caspian suddenly felt drained—as old and as tired as he had been up until an hour before (or was it longer?). His secret was out, his unhealing wound exposed, but he wasn’t fooling himself: even if Aslan granted his wish to see the other world, this pain would linger. Peter and he were worlds apart, now moreso than ever.

“Have hope, my son. Even I am not so cruel as to ask more of you than you are capable of giving,” said Aslan.

“Sir?”

“You have sacrificed much in service to Narnia. In return, I shall grant you what you seek, if you ask it of me. Though you will have your work cut out for you. Peter is not well.”

“Oh, Aslan,” Caspian gasped, unable to contain his sudden anxiety. “What is the trouble? What is wrong with him?”

“Peter has had a difficult time adjusting to the fact that he will never again return to Narnia—and he misses you,” Aslan said. “Eustace, will you share with Caspian how Peter seemed to you the last you saw him?”

Eustace chewed his lip thoughtfully, before responding with a sigh: “Well, he was rather pale, sir. Sickly, even. And quiet – almost _morose_, I guess. I thought he was in mourning—a lot of people look like that these days, what with the war on and all.” He cocked his head to the side, peering at his increasingly overwrought friend. “He was mourning you, wasn’t he?”

Caspian bit his lip, glancing questioningly back at Aslan.

“Yes, he was heartsick—still is,” Aslan confessed, confirming Caspian’s fears. A small, selfish part of Caspian had hoped that Peter missed him, but it made him sick to imagine him suffering so. “I’m afraid your parting has affected him more grievously than anticipated. While you had a kingdom and many adventures to distract you, he has had nothing but memories. And so I charge you with this mission: make the High King whole again, and stay by his side until you are _both_ ready to make your home in my Country.”

_Stay by his side._

The words rang in his ears, feeling his heart with a disbelieving sort of delight, and he found himself afraid to move, afraid to respond—as if the merest whisper would wake him from this dream. Could it be true? After all this time, would he finally be able to take his place by Peter’s side? To love with the whole of his being, without the burdens of kingship and destiny to hinder him?

“You can refuse, of course,” said Aslan, interrupting his thoughts.

“What?” Caspian gasped. “No!”

“Loving him will not be easy. I think you will find that world is no more forgiving in regards to love shared between those of the same sex than your own. You’ll have to keep your relationship secret. You won’t have a title to protect you from persecution.”

“All lot of people will look the other way,” Jill offered,“but not everyone. One of my cousins was brought before the court a few years back on suspicion of sodomy. The fallout wasn’t pleasant.”

“But...” Were his dreams to be shattered so soon? Waved before him teasingly, only to be torn away just as he reached out to touch them?

“Before you make your decision, you must also consider that the societal structures and cultural norms are vastly different from what you are accustomed to. And you will not be able to excuse your ignorance by explaining where you are from as magic is not widely accepted. Will you be able to cope? As much as it would please me to see you by Peter’s side, it may be easier to wait for him to join you in death. There is no shame in choosing to wait.”

Caspian opened his mouth to argue, but Eustace beat him to it, jumping in front of him to berate the other two with a ferocity that startled them all: “Now see here! Since when has Caspian ever taken the _easy_ route? When has he ever turned his back on an adventure, just because the path is uncharted? I may not have been there when he defeated King Miraz, but it seems to me that if he was as much of a coward as you would make him out to be, he would have simply laid down and died right then—and he certainly wouldn’t have managed to muster an army to fight a battle in which the odds were so sorely against him!” Eustace stuck out his chin with a glare. “And let’s not forget that he nobly sailed to the ends of the world to discover the fate of the Seven Narnian Lords. King Caspian is no coward.” He turned his gaze on Caspian, an encouraging smile replacing his frown. “Just as it has been an honour to count you as a friend, so shall it be to call you family, cousin.”

“I had thought you might be angry,” said Caspian, “for loving Peter. Forgive me for doubting you.”

Eustace grinned, shaking off the apology. “Well, it could be worse.”

“How so?”

“You could be in love with Susan!”

The two boys laughed—and the rising tension dispersed. Sensible Susan, for all her strength and her beauty, was a bit of a stick in the mud. Caspian may have enjoyed flirting with her in the past, but that was mostly because it had annoyed Peter terribly. How else would he have managed to gain the High King’s attention?

“You have good friends, Caspian,” said Aslan, laughter shining in his own eyes. “Have you decided your course of action?”

Caspian straightened. “I have.”

“And your decision?”

“To go,” he declared, “for as Eustace has said, I am no coward. Just as Peter came to me in my hour of need, I will go to him. I swear to you, I _will_ make the High King whole again.”

“Then so be it,” said Aslan, and then he gave a mighty roar. With astonishment, the three youths looked on as a sapling sprouted from the ground, growing at an impossible rate—only it wasn’t growing in the usual way (or as usual as anything can be where magic is involved). Instead, the sapling was twisting, expanding, and taking shape until at last—

“Why it’s a _door_!” Jill exclaimed.

And it was. Just a plain, wooden door, stained an odd blue-green colour, with the brass numbers “2-0-4” hanging at eye-level (“An apartment number,” Eustace explained.) and a garish red knob. Somehow he had expected a door to the other world to be a little more... Well, _dramatic_. This was almost disappointing. Curious, Caspian approached the door for a closer inspection, tentatively reaching out to brush his fingers along the frame.

“Go now with my blessing, dear boy,” said Aslan, “and be at peace.”

Caspian turned, to give his thanks, perhaps, but Aslan and the others were gone, as were the wild fields of Aslan’s Country. He was now standing in a rather narrow hallway.

He was in the other world.

Caspian turned back to the door: on the other side there was someone who needed him. What else could he do, but knock? He had waited too long already.

And so, with a firm fist, he tapped on the wooden surface.

“Just a moment!” a familiar voice called out—noticeably tired and irritable, but Caspian thought it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard all the same.

The door jerked open, and there he was: older, yes, and just as sickly and careworn as Eustace had warned, but he was still lovely to his eyes. “What do you want? If you’re looking for Thomas from the Drama Club, he’s in apartment ‘2-0-7’.” The other boy was just as prickly as ever. And wilfully blind to boot.

“Actually,” Caspian rasped, summoning his most seductive look, “I’m looking for High King Peter the Magnificent. Have you seen him?”

Peter’s eyes widened, and he finally _saw_.

“C-Caspian,” he whispered, hope and fear warring in his expression. “Is it really you?”

Caspian, feeling rather tired of conversation, leered at the gawking young man before him and simply replied: “Why don’t you invite me in and find out? Or would you rather I ravish you in the corridor?”

With a strangled sob, Peter lurched forward, wrapping his arms around Caspian’s neck to drag him inside, push him up against a wall, and smash their mouths together in a kiss that may have been far too desperate for finesse, but was also more heartfelt than any he’d ever experienced. “I don’t care how you did it,” Peter murmured raggedly into his mouth. “All that matters is that you’re here. You’re here.”

“Yes,” Caspian soothed. “I’m here.” _At last._

And they could not want wrong things anymore.

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/eosrose/pic/000aez66)


End file.
